


Buried Secrets, Broken Trust

by nothingeverlost



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Molestation, Panic Attack, Underage Sex, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Remember all my past time, when the future is waiting for me; I am lying on this ground, among memories.</i>  Cameron's past overwhelms her after a case.  Help comes from a surprising source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Watching the ep Skin Deep, I was struck with how personally Cameron took the allegations of abuse. At first I brushed it off as Cameron being her usual empathetic self, but then I watched it again at something kept bothering me. This story kept creeping into my thoughts, but I tried to ignore it. It wouldn’t let me go until I wrote it. Even after writing it, I was unsure about posting it. The is maybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written, the only thing that's made me feel physically ill while writing, so be warned. Deals with child molestation.
> 
> Originally posted March, 2006

_We’re mandated to report sexual abuse._

Hard and cold, the support of the bathroom wall is the only thing holding her up. Nausea threatens to overwhelm her, and it is only by focusing on each breath in and out that she is able to hold it off. In a vain attempt to clear her mind she focuses on the blue tiles of the floor. The corner stall she is standing in is 17 tiles wide and 49 tiles deep.

 _She’s a child. She needs to be protected._

833 tiles; there are a total of 833 tiles in this cramped space. She tries to guess how wide a single tile is, so she can make an educated guess about the area of the stall, but the edges of the tile is fuzzy. It’s then that she realizes that silent tears are running down her face. She can taste the salt in her mouth.

 _What did you think was going to happen?_

Wiping away the tears, she forgets about her breathing. Bile rises in the back of her throat and there is nothing she can do to stop it. Falling to her knees, she braces herself with one hand against the white porcelain of the toilet. She closes her eyes to avoid seeing the acid churned remains of her lunch. Wave after wave hits her until there is nothing left and she clutches at her stomach in an effort to stop the spasming muscles.

 _You think things are fine. They’re not. You’re the child, he’s the adult._

Five minutes pass before her muscles have calmed enough to allow her to stand. Leaving the stall she makes her way to the sink. She splashes water on her face and rinses out her mouth, but it doesn’t help. Not for the first time she curses her job and wonders why she keeps coming back every day.

 _Come on, we all do it._

Reaching into the left pocket of her lab coat she removes the small tube of concealer she keeps there. A few strategic places covered, and a mint to hide the smell, and she is ready to leave the bathroom. One last look in the mirror. She plasters on a fake smile and tells herself that no one will be able to tell that anything is wrong

***

The day after they solved what House was now referring to as the he-she case, Cameron didn’t come to work. House didn’t think much of it. She called and left a message that she wouldn’t be in. Alex was recovering from surgery and they had no new case, so there wasn’t much work to be done. He spent most of his day alternating between avoiding Cuddy and hassling Wilson before leaving work an hour early.

The next day when he got to work he was surprised to find that the coffee pot was empty, his unopened mail was tossed haphazardly in the middle of his desk, and the only doctors waiting for him had XY chromosomes. The blinking light of his answering machine revealed that he had messages, but when he hit the play button he discovered that none of them were from the errant Dr. Cameron.

“Have you seen her?” he asked the other two men in the office.

“Cameron?” Chase asked.

“No, Dr Cuddy.” House glared. “I wanted to volunteer for some more hours at the clinic.”

“I haven’t seen her since Wednesday evening,” Foreman supplied. “She seemed quieter then usual. Maybe she was coming down with something.”

While it was possible that Cameron was sick, House doubted it. Cameron never called in sick. Literally, never. There had been times, like last winter when a particularly violent strain of the flu had been going around, when she had been too sick to work with patients. She still came in, spending her time on research, or if there was no active case she would sort his mail and catch up on other paper work. The only times she had missed work were holidays, planned out long in advance. There was also that time she quit, but he tended to pretend those weeks just didn’t exist. Besides, when she left work on Wednesday she seemed more upset then infected. However, he hadn’t been paying much attention to her. At the time he had been too wrapped up in his own pain to notice anyone else's.

“I’ll be back.” Determined to find out what was wrong, House started to leave the office.

“Where are you going?” Foreman asked.

“Out. While I’m gone, you’re in charge.” Gesturing at Foreman, House left the room. A moment later he was back. “Just to clarify: I mean in charge in the sense that you are still completely under my control.”

***

She made it as far as the parking lot. Hands resting in her lap, she stared straight in front of her at the hospital. It seemed bigger then usual this morning. She knew that it was just her imagination, but the gothic brick architecture seemed dark and foreboding. For the first time since she had come here for an interview, she feared walking into the building.

When her alarm had gone off this morning, she had been tempted to turn it off and go back to sleep. It’s what she had done yesterday. Fourteen hours straight she had slept before finally getting out of bed at noon. Her muscles ached, being unaccustomed to such a long time in one position, and she had taken a long hot shower to relax them. It was the third shower she had taken since arriving home the night before. Afterwards she dressed in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Dressed, she opened the door to the hall closet, and used a chair from the dining room to reach up to the top shelf. In the very back was the photo album containing pictures of her childhood, including pictures of him.

“Cameron.” A tap on the window of her car made her jump. Her arm hit the horn on the steering wheel, and the sound distracted her for a moment. Turning, she was greeted with the unexpected, and unwanted, sight of her boss. He was glaring at her, and motioning for her to open the door. Instead she rolled down the window.

“It might surprise you to learn that in the day you were gone, the office did not move. It’s still inside the building and up a couple of floors. It is not out here in the parking lot.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll be right there.”

“Well, come on then. I didn’t come out here for my health, you know.”

“What are you doing out here?” She asked. The acerbic back and forth conversation was actually working to calm her down a little.

“My dream team is one doctor short. I was about to dial Rent-a-Hottie to fill the hole when I saw your car in the parking lot.”

Ignoring his mocking explanation, Cameron rolled up her window and got out of the car. Following House, she made her way through the parking lot. As the building got closer, her legs felt heavier and each step was harder to take. Her heart was beating too fast. She had to fight to control her breathing. House was unaware of her struggle until he realized that she was no longer directly behind him. Turning around, the first thing he noticed was that her eyes were open too big, and the hand not holding her purse was trembling.

“Come on. There are people upstairs waiting for us to wave our hands over them and make them all better.”

“I need... I forgot something in my car.” She tried to turn around, but House grabbed her by the arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked harshly. He knew, but waited for her to deny it.

“Nothing. I just...”

“Yeah right. Nothing. Is this why you didn’t come in yesterday?”

She tried to deny it, but it was almost too hard to breathe and she couldn’t manage to talk, so she shook her head. There were little white lights floating in front of her eyes now, a sure sign that she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She pulled her arm out of House’s grasp, but the motion caused her to stumble and she almost fell. Muttering, House grabbed her again, this time around her waist, and pulled her towards the bench a dozen feet away. It was slow and clumsy, but when they reached the bench and he released her, Cam gratefully slid down onto the firm wood.

“I can’t... can’t... catch... my... breath.”

“Nonsense. Snap out of it, Cameron.” he ordered.

“Real helpful, House. Thanks,” Cameron said caustically as she continued to gasp for breath. House continued to watch her struggle for a moment before reaching for her arm. Pushing up the sleeve of her shirt slightly, he used the flat of his hand to slap the inside of her forearm three times. Slap, slap, slap.

“What the hell was that?” Cameron yanked her arm away from him.

“The neurotransmitters released when you experience pain, block out the ones your brain releases when you have a panic attack. I made you all better. No need to thank me.”

“Thanks anyway. Before Wednesday, the last time I had a panic attack was my first year of college.”

Rubbing his thumb along the top of his cane, House stared at the woman sitting before him and tried to figure out what had been so different about Wednesday. Something serious enough to trigger a panic attack after more then ten years. There had been the case, of course, but that was interesting, not panic causing. Cameron had been upset about the child abuse charges, but he had expected nothing less from her. It wasn’t, however, the first time they had dealt with child welfare. There had been the boy last year, and before that there had been a teenage girl who they found out was being physically abused. Physically abused. Not sexually abused. Shit.

“Last year when you wanted to know why I hired you, I asked...” He didn’t like what he was thinking. Too many pieces were falling into places, and he wanted to deny the picture they created. “You said no.”

“I lied.” She was staring at the ground, and if he hadn’t been hyper aware of her, he might have missed her whispered answer. But then she raised her gaze and met his eyes. “Everyone lies, right?”

“Who? When?” He hit his cane against the ground with each question, wishing for something more substantial then soft dirt to take his abuse. Cameron was still staring at him, and he had to force himself not to look away.

“Why?” she threw back at him. Her fingers were wrapped around the bottom edge of the bench, the knuckles white with tension. “Would it give you some perverse pleasure to know the details?”

“No!” His refusal came out louder and harsher then he intended it to. Taking a step forwards, he lowered himself onto the bench next to her. “I know you think that I’m a misogynistic bastard of a man, but you can’t believe that.”

Biting her lip Cameron slowly shook her head.

“Tell me,” he said, softer this time. Moving his hand as he spoke, he covered her hand with his own.


	2. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was seven years old that summer.

“He was my next door neighbor. His name was Matthew, but everyone called him Matt. Everyone loved Matt; he was the guy who invited the whole street over for a barbecue to celebrate the start of summer. The guy who loaned out his tools and volunteered to help if you were moving something heavy.” Her voice was flat, almost robotic as she spoke

“Yeah sure, the guy was a saint.”

“It’s important that you understand; everyone loved Matt. Everyone _trusted_ him.” When she emphasized the word trusted he cringed. Trusting someone, in his experience, invariably meant that they let you down.

“It was a warm summer day. My older sister had gone shopping with my mom, but I wanted to stay at home. My dad was working on his car, and I was ‘helping’ him. We had the hood up, and Matt had stopped by to talk for a few minutes. The phone rang.” She paused, and stared at her hand as if looking for the phone. “Funny, it all started with a simple call. My mom had a flat tire and she wanted my Dad to drive to the mall and change it. I didn’t want to go.”

***  
 _  
“Come on, peanut. We’ve got to go rescue your mom.”_

 _“I don’t wanna,” Seven year old Allison stuck out her lower lip and crossed her skinny arms._

 _“Sorry, but we have to.”_

 _“You said we could go swimming, daddy. You promised.”_

 _“And we will, in a little while. As soon as we get back.”_

 _“Daddy,” she whined._

 _“Allison Rebecca...” His voice firm, Allison knew that he was serious. She resigned herself  
to making the trip to the mall, but then Matt spoke up._

 _“I’m not doing anything, Chet. Why don’t I keep an eye on Ally, while you go help Nancy?”_

 _“I couldn’t impose.”_

 _“You’re not. In fact, it’s starting to get sticky outside and I was thinking of going swimming anyway.”_

 _“Are you sure?”_

 _“Please daddy?” Allison tugged on her Dad’s hand and looked up at him with widened eyes. “Please?”_

 _“Alright. Thanks Matt.” As her dad and Matt talked, Allison ran into the house. Her swimsuit was hanging from the faucet in the bathroom where she had left it to dry. Quickly she stripped off her clothes and slipped it on. On her way back outside she paused to grab a towel from the linen closet in the hallway._

 _“I’m ready to go swimming.”_

***

“He took me swimming, just like he promised. After we were both in the pool, he told me about a new kind of game. Called it ‘skinny dipping,’ and said that only big kids could play. With the naivety of that age, I said that I was a big kid, and begged him to teach me the game. I begged.” For the first time since she began her recitation, Cameron looked up from the ground. There was moisture pooled in the corner of her eyes, and a look of guilt that made House look around for someone, anyone, to lash out against.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled when no worthy foe appeared. Cameron ignored his outburst and continued speaking. If she was going to tell the rest, she had to do it now. Every time she let herself remember Matt, it was like cutting open a wound that had only just started to heal. For years at a time she was able to push the memories away, but then something would happen and she would feel the pain stronger then ever.

“I didn’t tell my parents about swimming with Matt. Didn’t tell them about the other games he taught me, either. Like the ‘touching’ game. That’s all it was, that first time; touching. His fingers on my back, my arms, my legs. No more then my mom touched when she gave me a bath, but I knew something was wrong. Still I didn’t tell. I think I was afraid they would be mad at me. Even back then I hated for people to be mad at me,” she laughed ruefully. House was reminded of the way she had asked ‘Am I in trouble?’ after she had talked to Cuddy. He wondered if she realized how much of that damaged seven year old she still carried with her.

“When my dad picked me up a couple of hours later I went straight to my room. Took off my swimsuit and buried it at the bottom of my trash can. My mom never could figure out where my brand new suit went to, and told me I would have to wear my old one for the rest of the summer. It didn’t matter, because I refused to go in a pool for the rest of the season.”

“How did they find out? Your parents,” he clarified, “how did they find out?”

“They didn’t. Not then,” she replied.

“It was a couple of months before Matt baby-sat for me again...”

*** _  
“You’re a prince among men, Matt.” Nancy slid her arm into the sleeve of her coat and smiled at the man standing in the hallway._

 _“What are neighbors for?”_

 _“Mommy, I want to go with you.” Cameron threw her arms around her mother’s waist and squeezed tightly. She wanted to yell ‘don’t leave me with him,’ but all she could do was look up with wide eyes and silently beg her mother.  
“Don’t be silly. You’d be bored at a PTA meeting, Ally. There won’t be any other kids there.” Nancy bends down and kisses her daughter on the top of her head. “Now behave for Matt, and I’ll be back before you know it.” _

_Allison ran to the front window, and watched as her mother walked down the sidewalk and got into the car. She didn’t turn when she felt a hand press against her shoulder. Didn’t move when he asked if she would show him her bedroom. Only when his fingers encircled her wrist did she turn around and follow him up the stairs._

xxx

“They were cold.” Shivering, Cameron wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. For once House wished that he wore his lab coat so he could offer it to her, but as usual it was hanging in his locker.

“His fingers,” she clarified. “That first time, when he put them in... I remember thinking that they were so cold, and they shouldn’t be. I felt like I was on fire, so how could he be cold?”

A handful of nurses walked out of the building, and Cameron fell silent. Her legs were drawn up to her chest and she wrapped her arms around them. House wondered how many times young Cameron hid in the corners of rooms, wrapped in a fetal position. ‘Gorgeous women do not go to medical school, unless they are as damaged as they are beautiful.’ His stomach turns, understanding how close to the truth he was then. She’s called him a bastard more then once, and never has he felt the title more then he did now.

“Did you ever tell?” He has to know that the devil got what he deserved; that someone strung the man up by his balls and tortured him slowly. Slowly Cameron shook her head.

“In the end I didn’t have to.”

*** __

 _“What the hell is going on?” Chet Cameron storms into the room, face red and fists raised. He’s early to pick up his daughter, and the scene that greets him is out of his worst nightmare._

 _“It’s not what it looks like.” Matt is standing now, pulling up his pants and doing up the buttons. Nine year old Allison doesn’t make eye contact with her father, but instead curls into a ball in the middle of the bed._

 _“You fucking asshole.” Fist makes contact with jaw, and Matt falls to the floor. Chet pulls him up by the collar of his untucked shirt and slams him against the wall. With his forearm to the man’s neck he held him there. “I’ll kill you.”_

 _Matt’s face is turning purple, and Chet wonders if he really has it in him to kill a man. He never thought so until now, but in the last ten minutes everything has changed. He promised each one of his children when they were born that he would protect them. In trusting this man he has failed Allison, and someone has to pay for that._

 _For just a moment his gaze leaves Matt’s face and is directed to the bed. The sight is enough to stop Chet cold. He releases his hold, not noticing when Matt collapses on the floor. His daughter is still curled up on the bed, completely silent, but there are tears streaming down her face. Stumbling across the room, he falls onto the bed and scoops her up. With one arm he pulls the blanket from the foot of the bed and wraps it around her._

 _“Oh God, Ally baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.” His own face wet with tears, he continues to apologize as he rocks his daughter._

xxx

“A week later there was a for sale sign on the front lawn of Matt’s house, and he was gone.” There was a single tear falling down her cheek, and with the back of her hand she wiped it away.

“Cameron...” For once he is at a loss for words. His hand in the pocket of his jacket, he is tempted to withdraw his bottle of pills. It would be easy to pop a couple of the tablets into his mouth and ease the pain.

“I can’t go in there today.” House released his hold on the bottle and studied Cameron. She was watching the front door of the hospital, her head slowly shaking back and forth. “I think I need a little more time.”

“Alex is almost ready to leave,” he offered.

“That’s not why I...”

“I know.” It was a factor, though, and one of the few things he could control. Alex would be gone before Monday.

“I talked with her, after the social worker left. She slept with her father. Seduced him. It was her choice.”

“Nothing that happened to you was a choice.”

“I know.” She said the right words, but he is not sure that she believes them.

“You’ll come back on Monday morning.” He made it an order, because he was afraid of her response if he phrases it as a question.

“Monday,” she agreed. Fingering her keys, Cameron rises from the bench. House remained sitting, but followed her with his eyes as she walked across the parking lot.


	3. Secrets Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much he stared at it, the words on the screen wouldn't change.

“You know it’s after five, don’t you?” Walking into House’s office, Wilson was surprised to find that his friend is still sitting at his desk and staring at the computer screen. The iPod was off and House was not playing with any of his toys.

“Good porn?” he joked. The look House gave him is enough to cause his smile to fade. In all the years he’s known Gregory House, the only time he’s seen that look is when the man woke up in a recovery room to find that half of his thigh was gone. Not even Stacy leaving, the first or second time, was devastating enough to cause the utter despair he saw right now.

“Go away,” House demanded, glaring at his friend. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone right now. For most of the day he had been able to avoid interacting with anyone. He had sent Foreman to the clinic to cover for him, not caring that Cuddy would probably chew him out later, and assigned all the other grunt work to Chase. Until now, everyone had read the ‘go away’ signal he had been sending out. But not Wilson.

“Who died?” Wilson asked, trying to get House’s attention.

“No one,” House said before returning his gaze to the computer screen.

“Is someone sick?”

“We’re in a hospital. Many people are sick.”

“I mean...”

“I know what you mean. And no.”

“Is Vogler back?” He was running out of ideas.

“Hell no.” With a click of the mouse, House shut down the computer. For more then an hour he had been staring at the same thing: a twenty year old emergency room report from the archive of another hospital. By now he has the details memorized. He thought that seeing the facts in black and white might make them easier to handle, but seeing terms like vaginal trauma, scaring, and rape kit in a clinical report just made it worse.

“What’s going on, House?”

“I can’t tell you.” He never made a promise to keep her story a secret, but he felt the weight of her trust and wouldn’t betray that.

“Can’t or won’t?” With House the difference between the two was minimal. Wilson shook his head. “Never mind. Come on.”

“What?” House stared at the blank screen as if it would tell him something different then the report had.

“I have a craving for seafood. Let’s go hit Crawford’s for dinner. I’ll pay.” He knew from past experience that a good meal and a couple of drinks make House more likely to talk.

“Don’t you have a wife to get home to, or a date to go on?”

“Julie’s bridge group is meeting at our house tonight,” Wilson ignored the snide comment about dating.

“I guess as long as you’re buying,” House stood and limped across the room, “but no matter how expensive dinner is, I’m not putting out at the end of the date. I’m not that...” House winced and stopped speaking. The sexual innuendo is habit, but after today it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not that kind of girl,” Wilson finished for him.

***

“Two more beers, please. A Bud Light and a Guinness.”

“And a shot of whiskey,” House added as the waitress walked away from the table. The remains of their dinner had been cleared away more then an hour ago, and now they were both working on their third beer, with their fourth on the way.

“You know Bud Light is a wussy drink.” Wilson rolled his eyes, refusing to be pulled into such a meaningless argument.

“What was that all about earlier?” With the light buzz of alcohol, he is hoping for some honest answers.

“What was what about, wussy beer drinker?” House mocked.

“You being cryptic Mr. I-can’t-talk-about-it. You, who doesn’t seem to know the definition of the word confidential.” Wilson waited until the waitress deposited the new drinks on the table before continuing. “What’s going on?”

“I. Can’t. Tell.” The whiskey goes down in one shot, burning the back of his throat with its fire. I felt like I was on fire, so how could he be cold? House chased the whiskey down with most of the bottle of beer, “she trusts me. I don’t know why, but she does.”

“She.” Wilson caught the pronoun, and mulled it over out loud. “Not a patient, because you’d never get so twisted in knots about revealing something about a case. Not Stacy, because she’s gone, and I highly doubt that she’d call you, especially not this soon. You’re probably the last person Cuddy would confide in. That leaves just one person.”

“I need a drink. You want anything while I’m up, Sherlock?” House asked in a weak attempt to deflect Wilson’s questioning gaze.

“This is about Cameron.”

“So that’s a no on the drink.”

“She hasn’t been around for a couple of days. Is she okay?” Wilson hadn’t thought anything of the young doctor’s absence until now. She was looking pale the other day; he simply   
assumed that she had taken some sick days.

“Leave it alone, James.”

“House...”

“Wilson,” he warned.

“Just tell me if she’s okay, and if there is anything I can do to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” It’s the unanswered question that Wilson hears the loudest.

***

Cameron didn’t go straight home after leaving the hospital. She drove with no destination in mind. When she passed a park she drove around the block, parking her car. It was early in the day, and still a little too cold for any children to be playing. Sand filled her shoes as she attempted to keep her balance on the uneven surface not designed for high heels. Reaching the swings, Cameron grabbed hold of the metal chain and lowered herself onto the seat.

She used to love the swings. When she was little she would pump as hard as she could and then close her eyes. The air would whistle past her ears and she would pretend that she was flying. In first grade she had been a superhero for Halloween, and had told her class that she had the ability to fly. She spent her afternoon recess in the nurse’s office that day after jumping off the jungle gym trying to prove her power. If anyone had asked her a year later, she would have wished for the power to become invisible.

When she finally got home, the first thing she noticed was that the light on her answering machine was blinking. She ignored it as she headed to her room to change into more comfortable clothes. Not until she had a can of soup heating on the stove did she push the play button. Four messages. The first two were tele-marketers, and she erased those messages without listening to them all the way through. The third message was from Chase, telling her about the new case they had accepted that day and ending with a side note about House acting weird. Weirder then normal, he clarified. The last message was from her mother.

Cameron picked up the phone and began to dial, but then laid it down. She didn’t really want to talk to her mother right now. She was too tired to listen to the idle chatter about her sister’s children, her dad’s golf game, her mother’s latest charity event. Too raw to hide how she was feeling. With the press of a button she erased the memory of her answering machine. If only she could clear her own mind so easily.


	4. Breakfast of Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He showed up the next morning with questions and donuts

It was the incessant ringing of the doorbell that woke her up the next morning. She tried to ignore it, using an extra pillow to cover her head and pulling the blankets up to her chin. The noise continued. Slowly opening one eye, she tried to focus on the blurry green numbers of her alarm clock. Blinking a few times, she was able to make out the fact that it was a few minutes before six. Unable to fall asleep last night, she had tossed and turned, finally drifting off a little after one. Five hours. Great.

Stumbling out of bed, Cameron walked across her bedroom. Pulling her robe off of the back of the door, she slipped it on and knotted the belt as she walked down the hallway. Prepared to yell at who ever had interrupted her sleep, she yanked open the front door.

“Nice pajamas.” House stood in front of her, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The black leather jacket told her that he had ridden his bike here, and she could guess that he was not just out for an early morning ride.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, too groggy to phrase it any differently.

“You always so cheerful in the morning?” House removed his glasses, revealing puffy and bloodshot eyes. He held up the pink pastry box in his hand. “I brought donuts.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re yummy,” he deliberately mis-answered. “Now are you going to invite me in, or are we going to eat this oh-so-healthy breakfast standing in the doorway?”

“Come in,” she said reluctantly. It had been almost a year since he had been to her   
apartment. Strange how much had changed since then.

“Why isn’t he in jail?” Cameron had barely closed the door when House asked the question that had been plaguing him.

“What?” She knew exactly what he was asking, but wasn’t sure she wanted to answer. She took the box of donuts from him and placed it on the kitchen counter, then opened a cabinet door to get a pair of plates.

“The neighbor. Matt whatever the hell his last name is. Why isn’t he rotting away behind bars as some gang banger’s bitch?”

“How do you know that he’s not?”

“I looked it up.” While his password had granted him full access the hospital reports, it had taken a favor from someone who owed him to get a copy of the police report faxed to his office. “You’re surprised?”

“No.” She wasn’t sure what she expected from him, but the idea of him searching out more information wasn’t unexpected. Morosely, she wondered if the only reason he was here was because she was a puzzle and there were still pieces missing.

“Why? There’s a police report, but no charges filed.”

“My parents wanted it that way.”

*** __

 _“Alright Allison, we are all done here. You can sit up.” As the doctor spoke he removed his latex gloves and tossed them in the hazardous waste bin. One of them stuck to the side, and Allison watch transfixed as it stayed there for a minute before falling._

 _“Ally?” She turned towards her mother’s voice, and found that there were still signs of tears on her face._

 _“Honey, your dad and I are going to talk to the doctor, okay? We’ll be right outside the curtain.” Allison nodded vaguely. When her mother followed the doctor and closed the curtain behind her, Allison squeezed her eyes shut. The lights overhead were too bright. They hurt her eyes. It wasn’t any better with her eyes closed, though. In the darkness she could feel him watching her. The first time the doctor had touched her, she had felt like it was his hands on her. They were just as big, just as strong, and only her mother’s hand on her arm had kept her from jerking away from his touch._

 _“A police officer is on the way over.” For the first time, the doctor’s words coming from the other side of the curtain sounded like more than a murmur. Police?_

 _“We don’t want to file charges, we just want this to go away.” Unseen, Allison nodded her head in agreement. How many stars had she wished on in the past year and a half, always asking for the same thing._

 _“I’m sorry, but it’s state mandated that cases involving the abuse of a minor has to be reported.” Abuse. She had heard that word once. Last year a boy in her class had come to school with bruises on his arms and legs. After a few months, he stopped coming. She had heard two teachers talking that day in the hallway, about how Ricky was taken away from his parents. Frantically, Allison looked around the room for a place to hide. If the police couldn’t find her, they couldn’t take her away. The small curtained area offered no refuge._

 _“No,” she cried out. The curtain was yanked back and her mother ran in. Arms wrapped around her and she buried her face in her mother’s shirt._

 _“Don’t let them take me away. I’ll be good. I promise. But don’t let them take me.”_

 _“No one is taking you anywhere sweetie. I promise.”_

 _***_

 _It was starting to get light out when they finally left the hospital. Exhausted, Allison laid down in the back seat. Even as the car started she was more then half asleep. Before she could lose herself in the oblivion of sleep, though, her parents started talking in low voices._

 _“What are we going to do, Chet?” The calm voice that had soothed her in the hospital was gone, replaced by one of agitation._

 _“I don’t know. God almighty, when I think of that that son of a...”_

 _“Shhh. Ally’s in the car,” Nancy cautioned. Hearing her name, Allison made sure to stay completely still._

 _“If only a little bad language was all that we had to guard our daughter from,” Chet mourned. “How could we not know about Matt?”_

 _“He was our neighbor. We thought he was a friend.” He said that he was a friend. So many times he had told her that he was her friend. Her special secret friend._

 _“I wish that I could have five more minutes alone in a room with the man. He wouldn’t be walking afterwards.” The car swerved to the left, and Chet took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Did we do the right thing, not pressing charges?”_

 _“Everyone would find out, if we did that. The neighbors, the people at her school, at the church. They’d all know what happened.” The eyes she had felt watching her multiplied, until everyone she knew was staring at her from the dark, accusing her._

 _“We won’t let that happen,” Chet agreed. Allison wished that she was at home already, so that she could take a shower. She felt so dirty._

 _When they got home, her dad carried her up to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and covered her with blankets. When her eyes fluttered open, he ran his hand over her hair._

 _“I’ll make this better for you, peanut. I swear I will. Just remember that none of this is your fault, and no one else has to know.”  
_  
***

“Over the next weeks, that became a mantra in our family. It’s not your fault; no one has to find out. They didn’t even tell my sister. I know they were trying their best to help me, but I felt like I was carrying this weight and every time they said anything the weight got heavier. I had already caused my parents so much trouble, I felt bound to carry this secret for them even though it threatened to crush me.”

“They were wrong,” House interjected. He felt as if she had been raped twice, losing both her innocence and then her voice.

“Maybe,” Cameron equivocated. “Or maybe it would have been worse, if everyone had known. They did what they thought was best at that time. Even now, I don’t know what they could have done to make it better.”

House didn’t have an answer for her. He did have an idea of how he would react if he found himself in her father’s place. It involved a vial of slow acting but untraceable poison and an alibi.

“For years, anytime I saw anyone whispering, I was sure that they were talking about me. That they knew what Matt had done to me. What I let him do to me.” The donuts lay forgotten on their plates. Cameron returned them to the box and set the plates in the sink. In order to have something more to do with her hands, she started a pot of coffee and got out two mugs. Running an arm along the sleeve of her robe, she turned back to House.

“I need to... I feel...” Cameron wiped her hands together, reminding House of Lady Macbeth trying to clean away imaginary blood.

“I need to take a shower and get changed. Help yourself to coffee when it’s done brewing.” She didn’t wait for a response, but walked out of the room. Entering her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, hanging up the robe and tossing the pajamas in the hamper before turning on the shower. Once the water was a comfortable temperature, Cameron stepped into the stream and let the warm water run over her.

Cameron stayed in the shower for as long as the warm water lasted, telling herself that the wet heat would relax her tensed muscles. She had a habit of sleeping curled up when she was stressed, leading to cramped muscles. The past couple of nights had been particularly bad, for obvious reasons. It was at least as true that she was building up her courage, getting ready to face the man waiting in her kitchen again. She was sure that he still had questions, sure that he would ask them. It surprised her that she was just as sure that she would answer them. Why, after all this time, would she open up to him of all people? How had he been able to break through the years of ingrained silence, learning of secrets she hadn’t even shared with her husband? Was it just that he had been there at the right time, or was it something else?


	5. One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever see him again?

When she emerged from her bedroom in jeans and a turtleneck, she found House sitting on her couch. In front of him were two mugs.

“One sugar and a little milk,” he informed her, gesturing to the mug.

“Thanks.” She joined him on the couch, but sat on the end farthest from him. She accepted the coffee when he handed it to her. Another time she might have made a joke about him serving her coffee instead of the other way around. Instead she took a sip of the rich brew, amazed but appreciative to find that it tasted just the way she liked it.

“Apparently my donuts weren’t good enough for you. Is there something else you want for breakfast?” House asked.

“No thanks.” Food of any sort did not sound appealing.

“A well balanced diet requires more then sugar and caffeine.”

“Thanks for the advice, Doctor, but I’m not hungry.”

“Toast,” he suggested, ignoring her denial. For some reason he felt compelled to make sure she ate something. It was a strange urge, but he couldn’t deny it. “I could make toast.”

“Sure you could.”

“You don’t think I can cook?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t. I think you live on take out and canned food.” House and domesticity didn’t seem to fit together.

“You wound me.” The expression on his face was enough to make Cameron smile. House couldn’t help but feel that he had won some small victory.

Cameron relented, but stayed where she was while House moved into the kitchen. If he was so insistent on cooking, he could figure out where things were himself. Evidently he did, because he returned a few minutes later with two plates filled with neatly buttered pieces of toast and slightly overcooked scrambled eggs.

“You don’t have any breakfast meat in your refrigerator,” he complained as he handed her one of the plates. “No bacon, sausage, or ham.”

“Too high in fat,” Cameron explained.

“Nothing wrong with a little fat.”

“There is if you’re trying to fit into low cut jeans.” She picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite. When she was able to keep that down, she took another bite.

“Cameron...” he started guiltily.

“Don’t,” she stopped him. “Don’t apologize for every little innuendo and comment. Don’t start treating me with kid gloves.” If he did, every fear she had about people knowing the truth would be realized.

“No gloves,” he promised.

“I got quieter after that. Not that I was ever very outgoing, but afterwards I became even more reserved. I hid in books and school. I never had many friends. No one paid much attention to the shy girl in the back of the room. I was glad, because I never felt like I fit in with them. I knew too much.” She had finished eating most of the toast, and was just playing with the eggs, so she set the plate down. House took the opportunity to ask a question that had been nagging at him.

“Did you ever see him again?” Maybe it was something in the tone of her voice, but he didn’t think her story was over yet.

“Once,” she confirmed, “the year I was seventeen.”

*** _  
Allison couldn’t stop smiling. It was almost a hundred degrees outside, and she was wearing a black gown, but clenched in her hand was a high school diploma and that was all that mattered. Her GPA of 4.12 secured her a spot at the top of her graduating class, and in just a few minutes she would be walking across the stage and giving the valedictorian speech that she had spent the last weeks writing. Now the superintendent of schools was talking, and she tuned him out. Letting her eyes wander over the crowd, she tried to find all the people she knew. Her parents were both there, sitting next to all three of her living grandparents. Her sister was sitting in the next row with her husband of three months. To the left she found her best friend’s family, and farther back was the Simson family from church. When her gaze reached the last row of seats, Allison’s blood froze. It had been almost eight years, but even from this distance she recognized him. He looked older now. His once black hair was grayer now, and the passing of time had not been kind to his features. His eyes were as bright as ever, though, and just the knowledge that he was watching her made the acid in her stomach rise up._

 _“Allison.” His mouth was open, and Allison wondered how his whisper could be heard from so far away._

 _“Allison.” This time her name was accompanied by a jab to the ribs, and Allison realized that it was the boy next to her trying to get her attention. He gestured to the podium. She had missed her introduction, and now had to somehow find the strength to stand up on legs that felt like they were made of jell-o._

 _***_

 _He still drove the same car. After the ceremony was over, Allison found her parents and told them that she would meet them back at the house. When they asked she made up a story about needing to drop off a present at a friend’s house. Her mother gave her a hug, and her dad kissed her on the cheek._

 _“I’m so proud of you, peanut.”_

 _“Thank you.”_

 _She waited in her car with the engine running, and when she saw the familiar blue Toyota pull out onto the street she followed it. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but felt a desperate need to see where he went. Maybe she needed to see the monster of her childhood in the light of day. Or make sure he wasn’t headed to a playground where other children could be turned into victims. Maybe she would confront him, force him to answer questions that had haunted her for so many years. She didn’t know. Hands gripping the steering wheel, she tried to push the questions away as she focused on the red tail lights before her._

 _He stopped at a motel and parked in the front lot. Parallel parking along the street, Allison watched as he got out of the car and climbed a flight of stairs, entering one of the second floor rooms. She wasn’t sure if she found the fact that he was only here temporarily more reassuring or disturbing. Was he only here for her graduation? Lost in thought, she didn’t realize how much time had passed until the light next to the motel room door turned on. A few minutes later the door opened, and he stepped out of the room. Allison slouched down in the seat, desperate not to be seen. He didn’t notice her, though, as he crossed the lot and entered the Denny’s next door._

 _She thought about following him, confronting him. She only made it as far as his car before the panic stopped her. Panting for air, she grabbed onto the first thing she could. The side view mirror of a car. His car. Repulsed, she jerked away. Old and rusty, the mirror broke under the pressure of her movement. It fell to the ground, inches away from her feet. Without thinking she kicked it away. The mirror hit the tire and skidded across the pavement, landing almost exactly where it had started. Allison kicked it again, harder this time. It flew up in the air and hit the driver’s side door, leaving a small dent._

 _All the fear and anger and shame she had been feeling since seeing him again rose up. Leaning down and picking up the mirror, Allison slammed it as hard as she could onto the hood of the car. She struck again, this time to the window. The glass cracked, making a small spider web design. Again and again she hit the car, sometimes with the side view mirror, sometimes with her fists. She didn’t notice when her hands started bleeding, leaving red streaks on the window. She also didn’t notice the sound of police sirens growing closer.  
_  
***

“When the police arrived, I was arrested. They put me in the back of the squad car, but instead of taking me to the station they drove to the hospital. It took twelve stitches, seven on the right hand and five on the left, plus a tetanus shot, to take care of the cuts. When we arrived at the police station, my parents were there waiting. The charges had been dropped. I don’t know how; if it was all my dad’s doing or if Matt played any part in it. We never talked about it, another in a long line of things we didn’t talk about.” She still remembered that car ride home. The silence had been deafening.

“So that’s it?” House asked. “He walks away with nothing but a little damage to his car.”

“That’s the last I ever heard of him.”

“Did you ever try to...”

“No,” she answered before he finished his question. “I did my best to forget about him. I spent that summer at home, and then went away to college. By taking summer classes I finished in three years, then continued on to med school. That’s when I met Denny, my husband. He was the first guy I ever seriously dated. Sometimes I wonder...” Lost in thought, her voice trailed off.

“Sometimes you wonder what?” House demanded her attention.

“Sometimes I wonder if I fell in love with a sick man because I knew he couldn’t hurt me like Matt had.” She wanted to pull the words back the moment she said them. She had loved her husband. She still did. Despite the knowledge, the nagging doubts wouldn’t leave. House’s voice was in her head, accusing her of only loving men who were damaged. Maybe he was right.


	6. Therapy, House style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was back the next day

When he was gone, Cameron picked up the framed photo that rested on her mantle place. Denny’s smiling face looked back at her. With the tip of her finger, she traced his features. He had been such a good man. Calm, sweet, and gentle. She had met him in the hospital when she was doing rounds. He had charmed her with bad jokes and a love of life that she had never felt. He had been everything she could have asked for in a man, and the year they had together before his last trip to the hospital ahd been almost perfect.

Maybe that was why she never told him about Matt. She hadn’t wanted to ruin what she knew would be such a brief time. Or maybe it had been on big game of make believe. In life and in death, she had promised in her vows. She had known from the beginning how much time they had together, and still she had pretended that it was a life commitment. Matt was just one more thing she could pretend away.

With House, there was no make believe. She couldn’t avoid reality or hide in lies. He asked the questions no one else did, and demanded answers. It didn’t surprise her, that she had confided in him. She had nothing left to lose, so far as he was concerned. His reaction had been unexpected. No jokes. No ‘told you so’s.’ He had listened, and he had empathized. It was a side of House she rarely saw. In the past two days he had been the person she thought was buried behind the snark and pain medication. He was also more of a mystery to her then he ever had been. Frowning, Cameron returned the photo to its place and turned off the light. Making her way to the bedroom, she curled up in the middle of her bed and stared sleeplessly at the ceiling.

•••

He was back the next day. Not so early that Cameron was still in pajamas, but earlier then he usually arrived at work. When she opened the door for him, Cameron noticed that his corvette was parked on the street. It was the first time since he bought his bike that she had seen him drive it. The fact that he was carrying a cardboard box and a small plastic bag were probably the reason for the change.

She didn’t protest when he walked into her apartment without invitation. She accepted the bag with two pints of Ben and Jerry's when he handed them to her, and took it into the kitchen. He unpacked the box he had carried in. A Playstation 2. When he grimaced and knelt down in front of her television, connecting wires and inserting a DVD, she simply watched with puzzled detachment.

“Come, sit,” he ordered when everything was arranged. She almost smiled when the words ‘Tekken 3’ came on screen, followed by a pair of over drawn muscle men. Settling himself on her couch, House caught the flicker of her mouth. “What, you thought I’d bring some girly game, like Mario?”

She shook her head, not knowing what to think.

“Come on,” he said again when she remained standing. “There’s nothing better to improve your day then beating someone else senseless, even if it’s a virtual someone. I have this theory; all those rumors about video games promoting violence in kids are spread by psychiatrists because they are afraid that people will learn the truth. Video games are actually great for therapy. Depression is nothing more then anger turned inward, right?”

Bewildered, Cameron nodded.

“Video games give you a place to express that aggression. Shoot a bunch of bad guys deaf and poof, you feel better. It’s better then taking drugs. Well, most drugs,” he amended, patting his pocket.

He tossed her one of the controls, and in an automatic reflex she caught it in front of her. House turned his attention to the TV. With a speed born of many hours of practice, he pressed a series of buttons and the image on the screen changed to two warriors facing each other in a field of snow. One of the warriors, with red skin and horns, started beating up an Amazonian looking woman.

“It’s no fun if you don’t at least try, Cameron.”

Tentatively, she pushed a few buttons. The character on the screen moved. She pushed a few more, quicker this time. The Amazonian flipped the other warrior, tossing him onto the ground. Again she pushed, this time causing her character to perform a spinning kick that would have had any real person in traction. House countered, his warrior throwing her’s through the air.

“See, now we’re having fun.”

•••

Cameron was surprised when she looked at the clock a while latter. Almost two hours had passed since House had arrived. They had spent all that time playing the game, only a handful of words passing between them. Relaxing her fingers, Cameron set down her control.

“Why are you here?”

“That’s a rather philosophical question. Why are any of us here?”

“House.” She had answered his questions. The least he could do was answer her simple one.

“Does there have to be some great reason? I’m here.”

He was here. Cameron realized that for now, it was enough. He might have come because of his compulsive need to find the answers to a puzzle, but the answers had been given and he was still around. She still had to deal with her demons, but now she knew that she was ready to face them. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to face them alone.

“Okay.”

“Good,” House nodded. “Now can we get back to the game? Or better yet, you could go get a couple bowls of that ice cream I generously supplied.”

“Ice cream it is.” Stopping at the kitchen doorway, she turned to face him. “Thank you, House.”

“Your welcome,” he replied, glowering at her in that way that meant he was uncomfortable. “Now if you really want to thank me, you’ll get me the ice cream I asked for.”

Smiling, Cameron waked into the kitchen and opened the freezer.

***

“Doctor Cameron.” She was leaned over a microscope in the lab, examining the blood of their newest patient. Glad to find that she was alone, Wilson entered the room.

“Just a minute.” Adjusting the knob, she focused in on the white blood cells. After a moment she raised her head and made a notation on the chart next to her.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked.

“No. I wanted to ask you...” Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to say. “You’ve been gone for a couple of days and I wanted to make sure that everything’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Cameron replied hesitantly.

“Good. That’s good. It’s just that House said...”

“House didn’t say a damn thing.” Wilson flinched when House walked into the room.

“You,” he said, gesturing to Wilson with his cane, “stop trying to get me into trouble. And you,”this time the cane pointed to Cameron, “get back to work.”

“I’m around, if you need to talk,” Wilson made a point of telling Cameron before he left the lab.

“Busy body,” House muttered.

“He’s a good guy.”

“He’s a pain in the ass who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth closed. Not that he has anything to say. I didn’t tell him anything.”

“I would have understood, if you had.” She would have understood, but it would have been awkward.

“What ever. You almost done with those tests?” he asked.

“Almost.”

“Good. Chase and Foreman are getting antsy. I think they have a bet on the outcome. That’s kinda low. I’ll have to have a discussion about professionalism with them.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Cameron promised.

“Later, if you need to, uh, play some video games or something, I’ll be around.” He left the lab before she had a chance to thank him for the offer.

Cameron returned her attention to the telescope. Work, and life, were starting to look a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the friends who helped me to work through writing this.
> 
> 'Video game therapy' is something I found helped me in college when dealing with depression. Is is _not_ a substitute for getting help from problems.


End file.
